Page 6 - My FlipBook

OLIVIA (looking around the cemetery): This place sucks. Sorry,
Lacy. I know you liked it. (She pauses.) Mom didn’t know
that. I mentioned it to her when we were talking about your
ashes and she said, “What cemetery?” And I said, “The
Poe cemetery. You know how she went there all the time
to write her poems?” She got quiet and then she went into
the bathroom and closed the door. I could hear her puking.
I think she was sick to her stomach that she didn’t know this
basic thing about you, Lacy. Then she came out and smiled
and said, “That’s a good idea,” like nothing was wrong.

At the sound of her name, Lacy wakes up. Immedi-
ately, she rises to peer out, knowing now to stay halfway in.
Although she thinks she is prepared, the vividness of her
sister’s face in close proximity catches her off guard.
Olivia is looking down with eyes that see only dirt. She’s
wearing Zane’s coat and jeans and her red fleece gloves, the
ones whose tips she cut off last year. Her legs are bouncing
slightly to keep warm. Her nose is running and she keeps
dragging the back of one gloved hand across her face.

OLIVIA: A week ago, I woke up at around three or four in the
morning and I heard breathing. And I could just feel this
living presence behind the curtain, you know, and I was
fucking terrified, like you were back but not in a good way.
Like it was some fucking horror movie. And I lifted the
curtain and it wasn’t you. It was Mom. She was sleeping in
your bed. It still freaked me out. I slept on the couch and
when I woke up neither of us talked about it. She hasn’t
done it since.
LACY: A week ago? How long have I been dead?

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